Jennie's Letter
by Keliza
Summary: Hawkeye receives a letter from a childhood friend, stirring up memories of how she has helped him in the past. PLEASE read and review.


Story fresh out of my head about an extra reason Hawkeye thinks war sucks. I have so many ideas at the moment, I hope they are coming out right. Please read it and review it - all input gratefully received. Thank you!  
  
JENNIE'S LETTER  
  
Keliza  
  
I threw the letter across the room in anger. BJ looked up from his own letter from home, smiling still at the descriptions of his little girl it contained. I felt tears well up in my eyes but told myself again; I wasn't upset, I was just angry. I walked over to the landing spot of the piece of yellowy paper. I felt Beej's eyes on me and saw his smile turn to concern. Why did everybody have to worry so much about me? I was fine, I told him before he had the chance to ask.  
  
"Who's it from, Hawk?" he said gently.  
  
"Jennie." I replied simply. He sat on his bunk waiting for some elaboration. Why now? Why was it suddenly now that she had written? The tears burned but did not fall. So I sat and I spoke.  
  
"Jennie Proctor. The only person back home I miss nearly as much as my dad. I haven't really thought about her as such for years. Hah, she was right and I think I hate her for it.  
  
You see, Jennie and I, we were...no, Beej, not that. NEVER that. We were good friends. Well she was always a good friend to me, I was never quite sure how I helped her. She was somebody I could always talk to; like a mom who didn't ground you, you know? She acted as my conscience, not that I always took notice, but she was always there."  
  
"Attractive was she?" BJ cut in.  
  
"No, she was just Jen. Couldn't tell you if she was nice or not, you know what I mean? Hey, probably the only girl on this planet who I haven't scrutinised. Poor Jen." I continued, thoughts coming out of my mouth in the order they were rushing through the newly-reopened flood gates in my head.  
  
"When I was in high school, I got rather interested in girls. As you do. Had a string of girlfriends. Every time she would somehow fall into the shadows until we broke up, quietly disapproving. And there she would be again, ready to help me. I struggled at school to find a career, a purpose. I couldn't find a focus, it just seemed endless and pointless. Why did I need Latin? What use was that to me? My dad was a doctor so I was kinda stumbling blindly into that, it seemed interesting enough. I think she may have been the first person who ever asked me what I really wanted to do in my life. The only person who cared what my own strengths were.  
  
She kept me on the straight and narrow all through school. I resented her presence sometimes, was mean to her, but she was always there to defend me. Ha, BJ, I must have driven her nuts at times, I know I did, she told me! She told me when I was being stupid, and she worried about me. It got to the point where I would do stuff just to see her face when I told her. I got so bored in school at times; it was her that kept me going. She would give my little meaningless incentives. It got to the point where I was working as much for her as me.  
  
Whenever I did something stupid, she was always my first call. Anyway, the point is that when I was in my senior year, I had met this girl. She was great, her name was Rochelle, and I was totally in love with her. No more playing around, no more late-night drinking on the beach, I just wanted to be with her. And I thought, why not quit school? It seemed a great plan to me! No more work, I could get a job on the fishing boats, and we could be family.  
  
After a while, I got convinced to stay on, just til I knew what I wanted to do - I'm sure it was Jen in cahoots with my dad. One day totally by accident I came across this army brochure, intended from Bertie next door, I think. It was a recruiting thing; I read it through and ran up to see Jennie.  
  
I told her, I've found a career for myself. She was so happy, 'what?' she asked 'The Army', I told her. 'They pay you just to train and they don't want you to go to have a degree or anything. They just want you to have a diploma!'  
  
I know! It hard to believe - me and the army, but I was young. She went totally silent. I hadn't expected that. After a few moments, she just said 'Oh, God'. I didn't understand why she wasn't happy. I gave her the whole spiel, reading straight out of the book, liking the idea more myself as I read. All the time she sat staring at me, with this look of horror mixed with incomprehension. I could see her nodding slowly, waiting to butt in. 'But it's the military. You can't. For one, discipline is hardly your strong suit, Hawk,' she said simply. Using my own weapon of humour against me. 'They are employing you to do one of two things; kill people or get killed.'  
  
Of course, I waved it aside, assuming she was trying to put me off. 'Imagine,' I told her, 'I'll get to wear a uniform, and I'll be earning all that money while you are still studying.' (She was too damn smart for her own good, that girl. Could never beat her at anything. Had her whole career mapped out.) The final thing she said was, 'If it will get you to work, then aim for it. I would be impressed if you did the training, but it would not make me proud. It's all about petty killing, don't you know? I will NOT spend the rest of my life worrying about you coming home in pieces.'  
  
Of course, I grew out of the idea, the more I thought about it. But it served its purpose. It was an incentive to work, and I worked so hard to get there, that once I had come to my senses I was still able to do medicine. I remember seeing the relief on her face, the day I came to my senses about he army thing. She had been trying to persuade me not to do it, which was strange because she usually just let me make the mistakes and picked up the pieces. I can picture her smiling face telling me, 'Never to even think about the army again. I have enough problems worrying about you falling in ditches or getting some girl in trouble, without worrying about you getting shot at! Don't do that to me, Hawkeye.'"  
  
"And then you were drafted?" said BJ gently, breaking the spell of remembering those days.  
  
"In short, yeah. She went abroad at the end of college. We promised to write and did, but then she went to do more aid work after the war and I moved house. Don't think her life plan really shook out. She sometimes sent letters to dad, when she could but I think a lot of the places she works are very remote so. The last letter I got from here was a year before I got dragged over here. She kept saying how impressed and proud she was that I had seen medicine through, and that I was successful. Then, this." I pointed to the letter. Jennie had got back to the States a month ago and written to my dad for my present address, where she found out I had been drafted and sent to Korea. She had been in ignorant bliss until then. So had I; I had buried her patient caring face in the back of my mind until now.  
  
"Oh Beej, what am I putting her through? She knows I'm here. She says here she prays that the pattern of war will not touch me and that her worries may be groundless. What is she, a damn priest?! She saved me from this life once, but now." my eyes were starting to water violently. This was stupid, I saw people die everyday and maintained my composure. But maybe that was the point. This was too close to home. This was the effect war was having.  
  
"Get some sleep, Hawk. You can't afford to dwell on what us being here is doing to people back home. Every time I think of Peg alone with Erin and not knowing if I'll come home, I can barely stand it. You just have to focus on coming back in one piece - that's all we can do."  
  
"You have it rough over here, don't you, my friend?" I said as I laid my head on the pillow to sleep.  
  
That night in my dreams, I saw her hearing of my death. It wouldn't be first hand, probably from my dad, eventually, if she happened to be in the country. It could be years before she knew if she had not reason to contact me, and that was something I couldn't handle. I realised that I had never told her what a help she had been to me, how much I owed her, or just how proud I was of what SHE had done with her life. The knowledge that she would be worrying about me weighed on my heart. Even now I was still causing her grief. I wasn't being arrogant here, I knew that she really did worry like the fussiest of mothers about me. This was another reason why war sucked. The next morning, I told Radar to put a note on my file that in event of my death Jennifer Proctor was to be contacted immediately. It was all that I could do. And write when I could. And come home in one piece. I just prayed he would never have to make the call. 


End file.
